


Prideful Prejudice

by bumbum_ittybitty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU-Pride & Prejudice, F/M, Female!Eren, Tall!Levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbum_ittybitty/pseuds/bumbum_ittybitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger, the eldest daughter of Lord Jaeger, is forced into the acquaintanceship of the dire Mr. Ackerman after her sister becomes enamored with his close friend Mr. Smith. While her sister falls in love in the summer, Eren finds herself in a spiral of misfortune at the hands of Mr. Ackerman's pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pride & Prejudice is my hands-down favorite book of all time, and while I was rereading it last, I noticed that there was a strong line in Mr. Darcy's character that reminded me of Levi. Thusly, a wonderfully entertaining au. I also love writing Eren female, and who doesn't love a tall Levi?

It is a universally held truth that any reasonable man with ample opportunity and fortune must be in search of a wife. So it was not unusual for all of the young women to be in such a state of unrest when news spread of the arrival of Mr. Smith in Northrose. It was in the house situated near a creek, just a half hour’s walk from the county’s center, that a certain girl was in a particularly exaggerated uproar, along with her biding friends.

“Mother,” Eren groaned after the sound of clumsy footsteps and ungraceful laughter alerted her attention, once again, that she was not the only occupant of the house. “She is being rather uncouth, and if I may say, it is beginning to tear at my nerves.”

“Your sister has every right to be excited, love,” Mrs. Jaeger commented softly, her hands deftly working away with a needle into some handkerchief or another. “She is fresh and not even yet twenty, she has no control over the exuberance of marriage. Her friends, however, must consider taking their excitement over to their own houses.”

“Every time another young man moves here, the effect is the same,” Eren muttered, placing her hand across her damp forehead, “the girls loose every bit of their composure, one, perhaps two may dance with him, and come fall, he shall return to town without a single member of our community in his party. It is a shame that we continue to allow our girls to act in such a way.”

“That you never acted thusly never ceased to amaze me,” Mrs. Jaeger commented, “for a girl with no mind for marriage is severely wounded in this world.”

“I do not wish to have for myself some man whom is no more of a benefit to me than a hindrance. Look at father: as we speak, he may be off in the garden, pleasantly leaving you be. That is the sort of ease I search for, although, I dare say you do allow him to drink too often.”

“Eren, love, you are young yet,” Mrs. Jaeger rose from her sofa, her dress falling about her in an almost fictional air, “you fail to see many things; let your ignorance carry you farther than your arrogance.” She floated from the room, leaving her eldest daughter to stew in the words she’d left. Eren, who was more than capable of entertaining herself, rose up and headed out onto the terrace leading towards the gardens. The spring air, which was still grasping onto it’s last bits of winter crispness, was damp and frail as she walked among the topiary her father cared for so ardently. It was a joy living on her family’s age-old estate, though, she did often times dream of having more mileage than her neighbors by far, and owning her own carriage she need not share.

Mikasa, Eren’s younger, spirited sister, could be heard singing joyfully from her parlor upstairs, the words of love and devotion so ill fitting on her tongue. It was indeed pleasant to have her in such jolly spirits, what with her time being devoted to putting ribbons on her bonnet and beading the bodices on her dresses; the disapproval from her elder sister, however, flowed from what was the inevitable backlash. Mr. Smith, should he somehow be in search of a wife, would want a girl of fortune, one whose manners were mild, and above all, a girl whose name bore some sort of meaningful semblance to those in town. Mikasa was indeed beautiful, much more so than Eren could hope to be, but it was her eternally placid manner and lack of propriety that would be her downfall. 

Across the river was the rich lands leading towards the northern country; the wildflowers that grew along the bank and into the woodlands happened to send their aromas across to the small walnut grove where Eren favorite in the late afternoons. She settled her skirts underneath herself as she laid against the trunk, the soft smells of April lightly dusting her face. The distant sound of horses pulling carts pattered the earth, sending vibrations through the rolling hills of the forest.

Eren couldn’t hope to be more at ease than she was here. Even the weight of her hair, which she despised being so long, lifted off of her mind, leaving her in such a pleasant state, she was barely roused by the sounds of the dinner bell, or the approach of a horseman.

“Pardon me, my lady,” the deep sound of a rider shocked Eren out of her half-asleep stupor. “I do believe I had mistakenly made my way onto your estate. Forgive me; I am from out of town, and am in search of the house of Sir Jaeger.”

“You have indeed found it, for this is his estate,” Eren rose, brushing the fallen flower petals off of her dress, “may I trouble you for your name, stranger?”

“Do excuse my rudeness,” he dismounted his horse, quickly falling into a boy before her, to which she curtseyed back. “I am Erwin Smith, I have just come from London but two nights ago, and was advised to habit the estate of Sir Jaeger before a fortnight passed.”

“He is indeed at home, he should have no objection to a visitor at this hour.” Eren began to walk across the field towards the house, only for the blond man to call her back.

“I offer you my horse back to your home, I cannot abide by a lady walking if I am so comfortable upon my steed.” Though Eren knew his manners were merely cordial, she accepted them with ample earnest adoration, and let him lead his horse back to their house. After parking the horse in the stable, Mr. Smith followed Eren to her home’s modest foyer, where she bothered a maid with the task of introducing Mr. Smith to her father. With a simple farewell, Eren swept up the stairs to her own rooms.

“Oh Eren,” Mikasa caught her elder sister by the arm as they passed upstairs, “my friends have left me an honest mess. For what am I to do until I can affirm with my own eyes the caliber of this Mr. Smith?”

“Go downstairs then,” Eren shook her arm out of her grasp, “for he is in the perimeter as we speak. He has called upon father, and while I beg you not interrupt their meeting, you best go and dress your hair, for I cannot keep you from escorting him out.”

“Oh Eren! You are truly unkind; how could you not open with those words? I must pretty myself at once, for I must say, I look haggard as a beggar today.” Mikasa wound herself up like a toy and bounded off towards her room, looking lovelier than any other girl Eren had seen. 

It was in her own room, which was situated near the eastern side of the house and overlooked the lake far off to the southeast, that Eren finally collapsed onto a sofa, her hands rising up to free her hair from it’s bothersome bonds. She did enjoy the feeling of those long locks set free upon her shoulders and chest, however; the awful tug of it braided against her head, tied into odd configurations, left her head pounding with migraine. 

The sun, which was setting on the opposite side of the house, cast long shadows into her room, which danced with those of the fluttering drapes. Her opulent setting was that of her own invention, since she chose to use her allowance on bits for her parlor; a bookshelf half filled with works she chose herself, a drawing table, and even a music stand for when she practiced violin all decorated her abode as if it were her own house. However, it was her bedroom, which was adjacent to her parlor, that her true style lay. For she had elegant quilts upon her bed, and the sheerest silk drapes about her banister and windows. The canopy over her bed was also well equipped, and when paired with the vanity she’d inherited from her mother, it was as if she were a duchess or perhaps even a princess. However, she was thankful enough for being a mere lord’s eldest child.

She dressed in a silk gown for bed, and in the same fashion she practiced every night, she bid her parents a good evening while holding a candle, and retreated into her room with a book. She wished to stay up late to finish it, for her progress had been stalled cruelly as of late; she was making due speed when Mikasa entered loudly, and proclaimed that she and Mr. Smith had indeed had a delightful meeting, and that both she and her sister were to appear before he and his party for afternoon tea the next day at Mr. Smith’s estate in Northrose.

 

Eren awoke to the bright light of the sunrise near seven o’clock the next morning, roused by the golden light shining through her transparent curtains. She elected to dress in a fashion a bit more opulent than what she usually preferred, and found herself in a wonderfully pretty dress of a delightful green color. After she prettied her face, she met with Mikasa, who had dressed herself like any budding girl in love would, as they began the short half-hour walk to Northrose. 

“He is a man of great fortune, I am sure,” Mikasa goaded, “for he told me that the horse he rode was not his preferred one; he has more than one horse! By my word, he also did say that he is looking to buy an estate, but has yet to find a place so tempting to keep him anchored.”

“Let us hope that this ship does not sail so casually,” Eren warned as they passed a particularly distracting patch of wild posies. This part of the country was always so alive during spring, and as May approached, the oncoming showers would no doubt turn the countryside iridescent. 

“He has a small party, too,” Mikasa droned on, “for he only brought his sister, a Mrs. Zoe, and her husband Mr. Zacharias, and his close friend Mr. Ackerman. I must say that that is a small party indeed, and that this bodes well for our endeavor. For he is in no close acquaintance with an available woman to my knowledge, and that is most fortunate, sister.”

“Mikasa, you must find your wits, for their disappearance is unfortunately obvious,” Eren shook her head. Mikasa, whose dark eyes and hair woefully failed to hide her youthful ignorance and lack of manners, jogged ahead as the gate for Northrose approached. They turned west at the gate, and headed towards the ample estate of the same name. It was an old house, though it held a marvelous ballroom and a decent enough garden.

They were accepted by a maid and quickly delivered in to the tenants’ company. Mr. Smith rose to meet the two ladies, and introduced both himself and his sister, who smiled kindly behind silver glasses and a glass of wine. Her husband was writing a letter, though he did rise to send them a bow before falling back to work. Eren’s attention fell on the dark haired man who stood beside the exuberant Mr. Smith; he was tall, slender man of perhaps twenty-seven, with gray eyes and a disgusted countenance on his face. Eren disliked the way the man stood there silently, his eyes never resting on hers.

“This is my good friend, Mr. Ackerman,” Mr. Smith introduced, bidding that his guests seat themselves across from them while they await tea.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ackerman,” Eren offered a neutral point of conversation, to which all Mr. Ackerman replied was an assurance of his pleasure in the meeting. Mr. Smith and Mikasa discussed many irrelevant interests, such as their approval of the weather lately, and the mutual agreement that books were interesting. Eren couldn’t help but eye Mr. Ackerman with uninterested eyes, as he sat with the most foreboding, sour look on his face. When the tea came and was thusly drunk, Mr. Smith offered Mikasa and Eren a tour about the grounds. They consented, and the whole party excluding Mrs. and Mr. Zacharias took a turn around the property.

Eren and Mr. Ackerman found themselves assigned to walk together, and though Eren wished to only turn her sights back on home, Mr. Ackerman somehow found the will to speak.

“How have you enjoyed Northrose so far, Miss Jaeger?”

“I have enjoyed it very well, Mr. Ackerman, thank you,” she said back cordially, “though I do hope my sister grows wear soon, for I am already there.”

“I hope this meeting shan’t be tainted by your fatigue, for I do not wish to maintain a bitter memory within your acquaintanceship.”

“Worry not, Mr. Ackerman, for your standing shall be constant, whether I am fatigued or not.”

“That is well.”

They walked on again in silence, listening to the idle prattle of their fellow tourists. Eren did not find much spice within Mr. Ackerman, who seemed as dull as any man of fortune ought to be, though his friend, who was by far the richest man Eren had met, was filled with youthful bliss.

After a dinner of meats and soup, Eren called Mikasa to return home, and they woefully bid their hosts goodbye. Mrs. Zacharias, whose hobbies included intensive study of literature, lent Eren a manuscript she thought the girl might enjoy. 

“It is a wonderful piece, you may take your time reading it; I have already finished, so let your speed not be tested by me.” Eren thanked the woman for the gift, and hauled her sister away from the blond man.

“You girls cannot expect to walk home? Is your father not arranging your delivery?” Mr. Smith was shocked when the girls began walking down the road. Eren informed him of their frequency in walking to Northrose, only for him to rebuff their explanation and order Mr. Ackerman to dive them home. The man followed the request of his friend, and packaged the girls into a little chaise headed by a black steed. The ride home was nearly halved, and before the sun had even sunk below the horizon, the girls were safely home.

“Thank you, Mr. Ackerman,” Mikasa floated to the house, too enamored to focus on anyone else. 

“I am grateful, Mr. Ackerman; do accept my gratitude,” Eren said formally. Mr. Ackerman eyed her for a moment, before yanking the reigns and ordering his horse take him home.

“Smith requested that you and your family attend his party three nights from now; he has already written your father, but requested I resend the invitation.” Eren nodded and curtseyed the man away, her face falling to disgust as he rode away.

He was a woeful man. To have such a sour disposition all evening so severe that a smile could not crack the façade must be very tiresome. Eren made her way upstairs and washed her hair, her neck tired from sitting up all day. She willed for sleep to take her so that’s he may recline in the garden sooner, although her mind was rather taken with the ill manners of her host’s friend. Mr. Smith himself was a grand man, and seemed quite interested in her sister, which would no doubt keep Mikasa quiet, if even for a moment.

It was the prideful character of Mr. Ackerman, one that could not be challenged by conversation nor politeness, that was the cause of her dislike in the new leasing of Northrose. She would no doubt be expected to wait upon the man whenever her sister willed to be in Mr. Smith’s company, though the thought gave her great displeasure. She would have to push him aside and focus on the prospect of a ball at Northrose; an occasion that would no doubt leave her dancing in the arms of some man or other, perhaps an officer or a merchant’s son. That bittersweet thought left her content enough to finally drift asleep after the clock stroke eleven.


	2. Acquaintances and Northrose Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and her fellow countrymen attend a lively ball at the esteemed Mr. Smith's manor. Though she wishes to keep her mind focused on her wistful sister, Eren finds herself suddenly under the intense gaze of a certain aristocrat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry this chapter came out so late! Working full time six days a week has really cut into my writing time! This chapter was actually around ten pages long, but I decided to chop it up so I could provide another update sooner. Keep the feedback coming guys! Y'all are awesome! <3

Eren did not wish to spend her entire day preparing for a ball, but it seemed that fate had dealt her a rather cruel hand; she was tying her sister’s hair into an elegant up-do with small beads planted into her ebony hair as the sun colored the sky a melancholy pink. She herself was dressed as any well woman ought to be, and though there was no company that she delighted in than her own, she couldn’t help but adore the way that she looked in her finest clothing, ready to see her fellow youth.

In the passing days she had come to find a gentle acquaintance in Mr. Smith, whose manners were as right as day and whose hospitality extended to every service of life. He called upon the Jaeger ladies twice for tea, and each time, he delighted the younger sister to a walk about the property, and even offered to be at her service should she ever wish to go to town. Mikasa was, as any girl would be, enamored with the entirety of Mr. Smith, although Eren wept for her poor sister; a man as kind as he would no doubt be so courteous to every young girl he met. There was no exclusivity in his actions, and despite offering her the best, Eren prepared to nurse her sister out of heartbreak.

The delightful friendship of Mr. Smith came with ample disappointment in the dismal Mr. Ackerman however. Eren had met with him only once more after their first meeting, and it seemed that he delighted in not only speaking ill of Northrose and it’s inopportune company, but that of the various peoples living in and around the spit of that county.

“It is a shame,” he spoke ardently, with bitter salt on his tongue, “that the residents of this county never speak of anything but a neighbor. I must say, in town, you could speak with twenty some gentlemen and never hear of the same person twice, unless the individual they speak of is royal or blood. This county’s fascination with itself is something I have never beheld.”

Eren, who could not ignore his slights against her town, family, and herself, merely gave Mr. Ackerman a firm affirmation that his unfortunate encounters in Northrose must have blossomed out of some lack of introduction to the more entertaining parties.

“Miss Jaeger, you are right indeed,” he spat back at her, “for these folks I’ve thusly met have given me no pleasure.”

Mr. Smith seemed subtly oblivious to his friends sour tone, as he was so involved in both the county and it’s inhabitants, having made enough friends within a fortnight to populate a ball. His arrival at the public ball a week before only boosted his credit, and after three dances with Mikasa, it was most discussed that the youngest Miss Jaeger was to be married off. Lady Jaeger, who herself was distant from the rumor, only affirmed that she was a delightful girl, who would do any man proud. Other women, such as Mrs. Arlet, however, were very insistent on the assertion that the Jaegers and Smiths would be very close before summer came to an end.

“Eren,” Mikasa pulled her sister’s thoughts back into the present, “I am rather unsettled.”

“How so?”

“I don’t believe I am in love,” she looked on at her reflection, her eyes steadied on the two. “I am a child still, yet I know that my feelings for Mr. Smith must be something more than the warmth of acquaintanceship. It’s a feeling far warmer, something that makes my senses go dull.”

“I believe that may be infatuation, sister; however, I have no expertise in this field, and I am frightened that any counsel from me may be false in its intents.” Eren finished her sister’s hair, and turned the young girl around to her. “That being said, I cannot deny that I do find a certain shine in your eyes when the two of you are walking in the garden. Though it may have been only a few sparse hours that we have befriended him, I do believe that his character has been easily made out.”

Mikasa beamed at her sister and hopped to her vanity, ready to gather herself in a silken shawl and begin the short drive to Northrose. Lord and Lady Jaeger met their daughters as they approached the manor, a stoically silent husband and his blissfully quiet wife all too kind to interrupt their daughter’s rambles.

“It is a beautiful manor, mama,” Mikasa cooed against the warm evening air, “with a marvelous garden and the most adorable ballroom.”

“I am sure, for it is a grand house, love,” Mrs. Jaeger nodded to her daughter. “I do remember a day when I attended a ball at Pemberly, up north close to Sina, and I believe that Northrose is similar to that hall in grandeur.”

“You speak incorrectly, my dear,” Mr. Jaeger added to his wife’s testimony, “for Pemberly is far superior to many houses in the country by far. Even a royal palace may be in contention for its grandeur. It is the property of the higher aristocrats that can be called so fine, and though Mr. Smith himself is a great gentleman, he is no royal.”

“My love you are so fond of correcting my errors,” Mrs. Jaeger sighed placidly, “but I suppose it shall keep me from ignorance.”

Eren remained silent as they approached the party, which was already full with wondrously entertaining people. Mikasa found her friends and wandered off in search of the house’s host, leaving Eren to meander through the throngs of guests. The music was light and crisp and the tête-à-tête pleasant enough to keep her preoccupied until she met with a blond haired boy who spun right into her arms.

“Armin!” she proclaimed, happy to see her neighbor’s son so aptly dressed and present. “I have not seen you in many weeks; how have you been?”

“I am sick of that question, Eren, so pardon my ignoring it. I will tell you, however, that school in the city is much more enriching than that which we were supplied here at home. However, it was rather sad when I was sent back here, for I believe I met a girl in Sina that I could have indeed married.”

“Oh, so unfair; was she well?”

“She had no fortune, and though I can support a match on my own, it was with the intense displeasure from my father that I resent my affections and let her return to her home in the western country.” Armin leveled a glass of wine, which he drank with a sort of command that Eren expected from a city drunkard.

“Did they teach you to drink like that in school?” Eren could hardly help but laugh.

“No, but I was indeed taught in the city,” Armin laughed a gossip’s laugh. “So The budding news this evening is that young Mikasa is set to marry the elusive Mr. Smith. Tell me, is that true?”

“A know nothing of those facts, though I have heard those rumors. You call the man elusive; what brings you to that?”

“Oh he is well known in the city for his large fortune and larger heart, but even more so for his fickleness in appetite and his odd attraction to acquaintances. I was told that he and his sister were once seated within a large house party, and though he had made a comrade of every person their, his own attentions were focused on the depressing humors of Mr. Ackerman.” Armin nodded as they meandered through the party’s throngs of guests.

“Oh that man does not quell me,” Eren shook her head, “he is indeed more bitter than sweet and too dark for this country.”

“Miss Jaeger,” a deep, unfriendly voice alerted Eren to her not being alone in the room as she found herself face to face with the very subject of their conversation.

“Ah, Mr. Ackerman, how nice to see you,” she said with little animation. He ignored this affront and lifted his head to hear the music.

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” Hi words were right as rain, although they sounded wrong on his tongue. Eren nearly spat out in surprise, but while her mind fought to keep her bile down, her mouth formed an affirmation for him. He nodded and bowed away from the two, turning off into the crowds of fancily-clad partygoers.

“My, you seem to like him a bit more than you lead on.” Armin laughed a subtle, sinister laugh.

“Don’t tease me so,” Eren wept as they swept across the parlor and into a smaller, dimly lit corridor, “oh what have I done? Everyone shall see me dance with that man; my entire reputation will be gone before the score is quieted.”

Armin did not give his friend any comfort as the sounds of the orchestra died into a lull, and he pulled her into the ballroom. Mr. Ackerman was standing up tall, his disapproving glare softened on Eren only for appearances. As the song began anew—a more sultry, awfully romantic song, Eren noted—he took her hand and began to dance with about as much animation as an old mule. As they moved in silence, Eren reveled in his awkward mannerism, and took the opportunity to prove how much more tolerable she was.

“Isn’t this such a nice party? I dare say, private balls are much pleasanter than public ones; might I add, by and by, that I believe the company here is some of the liveliest I have ever beheld.”

“I suppose,” Mr. Ackerman added dully as he led her about a turn, “do you speak by a rule, or merely for your fancy, when dancing?”

“No, I happen to find that this intimate time is perfect for conversation. I would much rather chew on the climate of the room than remain so taciturn.”

“You give your opinion so freely,” Mr. Ackerman took her by her arm, “I must say it is invigorating to speak with a woman so well versed in the art of talking.” The sarcasm was too painful for her to even pretend to ignore, so while they continued to turn to the music, she elected to go on the offensive.

“It is likewise enjoyable for me, as you are incredibly compelling.” Eren wished to do nothing more than turn her back on him as they danced, but knew better than to do anything of the sort. 

“I thank you, and return your sentiments wholeheartedly,” Mr. Ackerman hissed. Eren’s temper rose up like a kettle, and when they came to face chests, she met his gaze with her own green glare, her cheeks burning pink as she veered vehemently at him.

“Why did you ask me to dance, Mr. Ackerman?”

“I find your talents at keeping my mind busy entertaining. You have some quarrel with my invitation?”

“Indeed I do.”

“And what may that quarrel be?”

“You call me forward to dance with me, yet you have no pleasure to gain from this affair.”  
“I merely wished to discover more of your character.” Eren laughed aloud at that, and shook her head, a small strand of hair falling before her eyes.

“And what have you discovered?”

“Very little,” his eyes settled onto hers with a sudden intensity that knocked a bit of sense out of her. Though she was adept at using her words for the offensive, the sternness of his gaze did make her slipper slide ungracefully across the marble floor. He caught her with ease and brought her closer than he ought to to finish the dance, and after placing a kiss on her hand, held it for a moment longer. “I would appreciate if you afford me more clarity in the future.”

With that Eren sauntered into the crowd to allow for the next dance, and though she could hear Armin’s inquiries about the dance, his manners, and what he had uttered, she was too lost in dishonorable silence to tear her eyes away from the tall, mean Mr. Ackerman.


End file.
